His private office was nothing like the examination rooms.
No fluorescent lights. No sharp scent of disinfectant. Only low, warm lighting from a single lamp on the corner desk and the heavy smell of his cologne mingled with the faint trace of sterilized metal. Shelves lined the walls, but the center of the room was bare except for the dark wooden desk that sat like a throne.
She stopped just past the doorway, clutching the thin gown around her body. He didn’t tell her to come in. He just looked at her from behind the desk, one hand on the armrest of his chair, the other resting lazily against his thigh.
“Close it,” he said.
Her fingers fumbled for the lock. The click was soft, but it felt like it sealed her fate.
“Come here.”
She walked slowly across the floor, the sound of her bare
